Chapter 6 - THE COAT AND THE CONFESSION
The transition from a waitress struggling to pay rent to a protected member of a crime syndicate happened in less than twenty minutes.
Gabriel took complete control of the room. He ordered Marcus to drag Tony’s unconscious body down to the estate’s holding cells in the basement. He dispatched three tactical teams to secure my small, rundown apartment in Queens and retrieve any belongings that hadn't already been compromised.
"You aren't going back there," Gabriel told me, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're staying here. In the east wing. Marcus will post two guards outside your door."
"I have a shift at the restaurant on Monday," I blurted out, the mundane reality of my life colliding absurdly with the mafia war breaking out around me.
Gabriel stared at me for a long moment, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Chloe, you just inherited a third of a multi-million dollar shipping empire. I think Marco the sous-chef will understand if you call out sick."
I looked down at my scuffed shoes, suddenly feeling entirely unmoored. For twenty-seven years, my identity had been forged in struggle. Counting tips. Budgeting groceries. Caring for Leo.
Without those burdens, I didn't know who I was.
Beatrice noticed my panic. She walked over, opened a massive mahogany wardrobe in the corner of the study, and pulled out a heavy, luxurious black cashmere coat. She draped it gently over my shoulders. It was warm, smelled faintly of lavender, and enveloped me like a shield.
Breathe, sweet girl, Beatrice signed. The storm is loud, but you are inside the house now.
"Thank you," I signed back, my hands shaking slightly.
Vincenzo was sitting behind his desk, pouring two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. He pushed one across the desk toward Gabriel, then looked at me, hesitating.
"Do you drink, Chloe?" Vincenzo asked softly.
"Only when I find out my dead mother was engaged to a mafia boss," I replied dryly.
Vincenzo let out a rusty, genuine chuckle. He poured a third glass and handed it to me.
"To Maria," Vincenzo said, raising his glass. "And to the daughter she raised with the fire of a true Sicilian."
We drank. The liquor burned a clean, hot path down my throat, steadying my nerves.
"We need to deal with the Moretti family," Gabriel said, setting his glass down. He slipped effortlessly into the role of the syndicate head. "If they know Tony failed, they'll fortify their compounds. They’ll expect a retaliation."
"Let them expect it," Vincenzo growled, his scarred face hardening. "They killed my first love. They murdered my son. I will burn their shipping ports to the ground by dawn."
"No," I said loudly.
Both men turned to stare at me.
"No?" Gabriel echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Chloe, they ordered the hit on Leo. They put a target on your back."
"And if you start a war tonight, how many other people die?" I asked, gripping the lapels of the cashmere coat. "How many other waitresses get caught in the crossfire? How many other sisters have to bury their brothers because you wanted to prove a point?"
"It's not about proving a point," Vincenzo said, his voice darkening. "It's about justice."
"It's about revenge," I corrected, stepping right up to the heavy oak desk. "Revenge won't bring Leo back. It won't bring my mother back. If you want to take down the Moretti family, do it smart. Break their empire, don't just shoot their foot soldiers."
Gabriel looked at me, a slow, admiring smirk spreading across his face. He looked at his father. "She’s definitely your daughter."
Vincenzo sighed, rubbing his temples. "What do you suggest, Chloe?"
"Tony was their inside man," I reasoned, my mind racing. Years of surviving on the margins of New York had taught me how to read people, how to find leverage. "Tony has all the access codes to the Costello shipping ports. The Morettis are expecting him to deliver those ports tonight, right?"
"Right," Gabriel nodded.
"So, we give them what they want," I said, a dangerous plan forming in my head. "We let Tony make the delivery. But we rig the digital ledgers. The moment the Morettis log into our system to claim the shipping manifests, they unknowingly download a federal tracking virus into their own mainframes. We hand their entire illicit operation directly to the FBI."
The room went dead silent.
Gabriel stared at me, his gray eyes wide with shock.
Vincenzo slowly set his glass down.
"You want to use the federal government to wipe out a rival mafia family?" Gabriel asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Why dirty your own hands when the FBI will do it for free?" I shrugged. "They get life in a federal penitentiary. The Costello family keeps its hands clean. And nobody else has to die."
Beatrice, who had been watching my lips and hands closely, suddenly slapped the desk with excitement.
She is a genius! Beatrice signed rapidly to Gabriel. Listen to your sister!
Gabriel let out a sharp, genuine laugh. "I’ll be damned. A cyber-trap. Marcus has the tech guys on payroll who can build that trojan horse in an hour."
"There's only one problem," Vincenzo noted, his brow furrowing. "Tony has to make the call. The Morettis won't accept the digital transfer from anyone else. And Tony is currently bleeding in our basement. He won't cooperate."
"He will," Gabriel said, his voice turning ice-cold. "Because he thinks he still has a card to play."
Gabriel walked to the mahogany doors and opened them. "Marcus! Bring Tony back up here. Tell him he has five minutes to negotiate his life."
Ten minutes later, Tony was dragged back into the study. His hands were zip-tied behind his back, his face bruised and swollen from Gabriel’s strike. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the gun still sitting on the desk.
"You're dead, Gabriel," Tony spat, blood staining his teeth. "The Morettis are already moving on your territories."
"They're waiting for your phone call to confirm the digital handover of the ports," Gabriel said calmly, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Here is the deal, Tony. You make the call. You authorize the transfer. And I let you walk out the front gates alive."
Tony laughed bitterly. "You think I'm stupid? The second I make that call, you put a bullet in my head."
"I give you my word as head of this family," Gabriel said smoothly. "You make the call, you walk."
Tony hesitated. He looked at Vincenzo, then at me. Self-preservation waged a war against his loyalty to a rival family.
"Fine," Tony sneered. "Cut my hands loose. Give me a phone."
Marcus stepped forward, slicing the plastic zip-ties with a tactical knife. Gabriel handed Tony a burner phone.
Tony dialed a number from memory. He put it on speaker.
The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered. "Is it done?"
"It's done," Tony said, looking at Gabriel. "I'm initiating the digital transfer of the Costello port manifests now. Log into the offshore server with the credentials we discussed."
"Excellent," the Moretti boss replied. "We have control. Good work, Tony."
The line went dead.
Gabriel looked at Marcus. Marcus tapped an earpiece, listening intently for a few seconds. Then a grim smile crossed the security chief's face.
"The virus is deployed, boss," Marcus reported. "The FBI cybersecurity division just got pinged with every illegal gambling, extortion, and smuggling ledger on the Moretti mainframe. They'll be kicking down the Moretti compound doors before midnight."
Tony realized instantly what had happened. He lunged forward, but Marcus grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back to his knees.
"You set me up!" Tony screamed. "They'll know I was the access point! The Morettis will kill me in prison!"
"Probably," Gabriel agreed coldly.
"You promised I could walk out of here alive!" Tony shouted, panic finally breaking his arrogant facade.
Gabriel stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. He walked over to the study doors and opened them wide, gesturing to the dark hallway.
"I did promise," Gabriel said, his voice entirely devoid of mercy. "You are free to walk out the front gates, Tony. Alive."
Tony scrambled to his feet, eyeing Gabriel suspiciously. He backed toward the door, then turned and bolted down the hallway toward freedom.
I watched him go, my stomach twisting. "You're just letting him go? After what he did to Leo?"
Gabriel walked back to the desk, picking up his glass of amber liquor. He took a slow sip, his gray eyes staring out the window toward the front gates of the estate.
"I promised I wouldn't kill him, Chloe," Gabriel said softly.
Just then, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the front gates on the security monitor mounted on the wall. The doors opened, and four men in dark suits stepped out.
"Who is that?" I asked.
"That," Vincenzo said, his voice grim and final, "is the FBI counter-organized crime unit. Gabriel tipped them off to Tony's location twenty minutes ago. Tony isn't walking to freedom. He’s walking directly into a federal life sentence for the murder of Leo Bennett."
I stared at the monitor as the federal agents tackled Tony to the gravel driveway, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists.
May you like
The man who had taken my brother from me was gone.
I collapsed into the leather armchair, burying my face in my hands, as years of grief, anger, and survival finally broke over me in a wave of exhausting, cleansing tears.
